


Ever Enough

by coveredinsnow1698



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Kinda, bechloe - Freeform, bechloe endgame, oh yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 11:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4389932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredinsnow1698/pseuds/coveredinsnow1698
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm not really her type and she's not mine." You laugh. It sounds hollow in your ears. "I'm very much single." You throw in a wink for good measure.</p><p>Or the one where Chloe tries to be everything for Beca.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ever Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a bunch of songs that don't mix together.
> 
> This one's for my seestra--stop eating all the food--and Alex, the only person I know who doesn't like breakfast.

You were transfixed, you could not look away. Couldn't even bear the thought of that as you take in the sight in front of you. Her eyes were closed, her mouth producing the most beautiful sound you've heard in your life. The way her hips moved to the beat of the music makes you wonder (not for the first time) what she is like in private.

 

You thank all the gods you can think of that your venue held a monthly karaoke/open mic night. You knew that it was a bad idea egging her on to sing in front of everyone at the bar with her high school friends. You knew. But _of course_ the desire to see her belting her heart out outweighed all the consequences that may possibly occur. One of which is your possible demise from cardiac arrest. Based on fast your heart is beating, you won't last another minute standing up so you sit, trying not to look very gay and in love with your best friend. If she were here beside you, she'd probably drawl in your ear, _'Careful there, Elmo. Your gay for me is beating the shit out of your bisexuality.'_

 

That's how well you know each other. Sometimes, you can predict what her comment will be and how sarcastic or deadpan it will sound in her voice. Of course, knowing each other that well mean you know each other's quirks and mannerisms. Like the way she bites her nails when she's worried and worrying about something. She knows you enough to know when your smile is fake and when you're trying to make it seem like everything's fine. That also includes you knowing that she likes you.

 

You first noticed it when she leaned in for a hug when you did not see each other for two weeks. You were busy with grad school and she was caught up with her internship. So when you agreed to meet up at some coffee shop, you were excited. You got there first and waited at a table outside to enjoy the last rays of the sun. You turned when you felt a tap at your shoulder and you immediately stood up. She opened her arms and encircled you with them with a whisper _'I missed you, Elmo'_ in your ear as she tightened her hold on you.

 

(You don't like thinking about the real reason.)

 

You were surprised, to say the least. For someone who avoids human contact, she gives the best hugs. (Probably because she reserves them for the special people in her life.) When you lean back to hold her at arms' length and saw her blushing, you had an inkling of what she feeling. You know because that's what you felt when you first heard her sing in the shower.

 

You're not exactly subtle with these feelings but of course she, despite being cocky little shit that she is, is oblivious to this. She doesn't notice the way your eyes seem to follow the movement of her lips as she rants about incompetent slow walkers, doesn't notice the little smile on your face when she walks into the room. Granted, you didn't know about this until Stacie very enthusiastically pointed it out one night at some party.

 

***

 

"Red, I can feel your toner," Stacie whisper-shouted in your ear as she grinded from behind you.

 

"What? No! Beca and I are just friends," you say, tearing your eyes away from--yep, you guessed it--Beca.

 

Stacie rolls her eyes. "Okay, first of all, I didn't even mention a name." She smirks at you and you're thankful for the dim lights and she can't see the blush that matches your hair. "You know they've been broken up for a while now, right? You can make your move."

 

"You think so?" you ask timidly, which is rare for you. Anything regarding the alt girl tend to bring out parts of yourself you didn't know existed.

 

"Yeah!" she answers happily. "Just ask her out."

 

"It's really not that simple," you mutter, trying to argue.

 

"Ugh, no more excuses, Red. Flash her again in the shower if you have to," she says with a grin.

 

Of course, she'll say that. "Stacie, no," you say and you both giggle at that.

 

"The worst thing she can do is say no," the brunette says, putting her arms around you, coaxing you to dance again. "And if she does, she's an idiot. Then you can come visit me," she added with a wink.

 

You're not really sure if she's serious or not, so you laugh and resumed dancing.

 

Later that night, with your made up, you try to locate Beca. You find the tiny alt girl in the bathroom. Her eye makeup running through her cheeks, crying. The sight makes your heart sink and you immediately envelop her in your arms. She stiffens and you whisper in your ear, "It's me. Are you okay?" which is a dumb question and makes her sob harder.

 

"He's here," she says in her cracking voice. "I saw him. He was with a girl."

 

"Oh Becs," you say, feeling stupid at your eloquence and she buries herself further in your chest. You hate seeing her like this. You blink multiple times to try to control the moisture in your eyes. She doesn't like seeing you cry. You know because she caught you once after practice, mourning over your incapability to reach the notes you could before.

 

"I know it's stupid, I fell out of love with him," she rasps. "I guess I'm just not ready to see him like that."

 

"Becs, you're not over him and it's okay," you whisper in her ear, the words heavy and bitter in your mouth and suddenly your crying because of a completely reason.

 

"No," she huffs, "I broke up with him. I shouldn't be feeling this way."

 

"Beca, you're allowed to feel emotions and you're definitely allowed to feel hurt right now."

 

"Ugh, I hate feelings," she says with a groan and you know she doesn't believe you. You want to make her believe. You want her to know that she doesn't have to blame herself. But of course, aside from being cocky, her other prominent trait is stubbornness.

 

So you sigh. "You and me both." you mutter as you try to ignore the dull ache in your chest. "Take it one day a time. You have all the time in the world."

 

***

 

And took her time, she did. It's been months since that night. Weekend after weekend you've had to see her staggering through bars, sometimes drunk off her ass and sometimes sober enough to be very philosophical and/or morbid. You try to be there for her. Every time she needed someone, you were there even when you feel like she's tearing you a new one.

 

Sometimes, she doesn't come home. You don't know where she goes but you're thankful on mornings when you wake up with her arms around you. She thinks she's good at hiding emotions--and she is--but her eyes are a dead give away. She's falling apart but she refuses to let you pick up the pieces. She started to self-destruct from the inside and you can only watch because she refuses to listen when you try to talk her.

 

It was only a matter of time, really. You were frustrated--much like the time when Aubrey was still the Bellas captain and she refuses to let you have a say in things--so when you overheard the girls talking about her upcoming date, you explode.

 

(Not because you were jealous, you huff to yourself in the bathroom mirror. You splash some water on your face to stop the burning in your eyes. Nope. Jealousy of that intensity is for couples, which you two are certainly not, you thought sadly with a hand to your face and a groan. Even to yourself you lose to this argument.)

 

You were the best friend. You were supposed to be the first to know, not the one who overhears it in a hushed conversation in the living room.

 

(You refuse to acknowledge that it was the real reason of the little break you two had. Friends don't do breaks, right? Right?)

 

The fight lasted two weeks. You still remember the stillness and quiet of the house when you were both in the same room and the girls' murmured _'what's mom and dad fighting about?'_

 

Naturally, you were the one who caved. You invited her to grab a coffee and she came. It all went back to normal after you both apologized but she refused to talk about her date when you asked. You were curious but a part of you was relieved.

 

You keep all this to yourself, of course. You don't want people to get you wrong. You want Beca to be happy. But you want to be happy, too. Was it really that hard to put two and two together? She wants to be happy. You want to be happy. You want her to be happy with you and her to be happy with you.

 

 

That's why you were surprised when she asked if you could accompany her when her high school friends (that she never spoke of) planned a night out with her. Normally in this kind of gatherings, you bring your significant other (which you are most definitely NOT, no matter how much you want to be hers).

 

You glance around at her friends and their partners. At times, you hate that you're so focused on her that you forget that things are happening around you. Now, you can't remember what their names are. All you know is that one of them is migrating abroad and wanted to get the group back together before going. They reconnected when they saw Beca on the news about the 'flashing the president thing'.

 

Beca finishes her song on stage with an applause from the audience and she slides next to you, her hand on your thigh. She grabs the glass of water at the table and chugs it down, using the back of her hand to wipe her mouth. You try not to follow the water that strays down her neck. You know you've been caught when she clears her throat. The blush on her cheeks is visible even in the dark and you giggle.

 

"Gross, Becs," you say and you hand her a napkin. She grunts a thank you and continues draining the glass.

 

"So," a voice on your left says, Andrew is his name, you recall when you turn, one of Beca's friends from high school who is now a big shot business man or something. "How long have you been together?"

 

Beca suddenly choked on her water, sputtering and you try to rub soothingly at her back. You glance at her friends. They're all staring at you and you chuckle, trying not to let your nervousness show.

 

"Andrew, we're not together," you smile good naturedly, even though your stomach feels like it's being twisted. "We're just best friends."

 

"Oh," he says, cheeks flaring a bit. "I thought ..."

 

"I'm not really her type and she's not mine." You laugh. It sounds hollow in your ears. "I'm very much single." You throw in a wink for good measure.

 

***

 

You're studying Beca's profile in the dark when she looks at you, confused. "What?" she asks.

 

You smile ruefully. "Remember the time you got lost?"

 

She rubs at her neck, which is turning red by the second. "Dude, I already apologized for that."

 

"Do you even know which time I was referring to?" You snort.

 

She snorts. "I don't get lost that much."

 

"Are you sure about that?" you say, a teasing smile on your lips. "Because I got tons of 'help I'm lost' Beca text here." You hold up your phone. She makes a grab at it and you pull it out of her reach. "Hey, hey! Drive carefully, missy!"

 

Her cheeks puff out and she stares at you angrily. The glare lost its effect a long time ago and you grin cheekily.

 

"Anyway, I'd just like to thank you for the flowers."

 

"Flowers?" she says, an eyebrow rising. "What flowers?"

 

You roll your eyes at her because honestly, she's good at hiding emotions but she's not the best liar. "Beca, I got them the morning after you got lost. And I know you're the one growing them in the yard."

 

"Wha-- I don't-- You have no proof!"

 

"I may have photographic evidence," you announce smugly. "Also there are always more flowers on my window on mornings after I rescue you."

 

She sucks in her teeth and glances at you in the corner of her eye.

 

"Why do you keep giving me flowers?"

 

A beat of silence.

 

"I just think your room needs a little more color," she says sarcastically. You roll her eyes (a habit of hers that you've acquired) because she always teases you that a unicorn may have rainbow-vomited on your room.

 

You pinch her arm and the tension is gone.

 

"Ow! Don't hurt the driver!" she hisses at you. "Can't I give you flowers for no reason? Jeez, Chlo."

 

"It wasn't that hard, you big baby!" you chastise her halfheartedly through a smile.

 

***

 

It started to rain when she slammed on the break. Her car skids to a stop in the middle of an empty road. You look around to see if you've arrived at the Bella house but you can barely see outside. You glance at her but she's avoiding your gaze by glaring out the windshield.

 

"Beca?"

 

You see her jaw working, like she's trying to keep the words from spilling out.

 

"Beca? What's going on?"

 

She sucks in her teeth before closing her eyes for a moment. When she opens her dark blue eyes, you know a decision has been made.

 

"Becs?"

 

"I'm sorry," she says, letting out a nervous chuckle. "I didn't mean to scare you."

 

"It's okay. It's not like you're gonna murder me in the middle of the woods," you joke, hoping to lighten the mood. "Because I can take you, you're like, so tiny."

 

She lets out a strained smile, her fingers absentmindedly beating in time with the pitter patter of the rain on the roof.

 

"I might go on a date," she says and you remember the wilting flowers in your desk. "I haven't said yes, though."

 

"Beca, that's great!" you manage to choke out. "Who's the lucky guy?"

 

_"Girl."_

 

"What?"

 

"Girl," she murmurs. "Her name's Lucy. She asked me out."

 

"Oh." Even to your ears you sound heartbroken.

 

"This isn't gonna be a problem, is it?" She finally glances at you, hurt. Probably mistaking your sad tone as something else. "I just ... I just thought you being bisexual and all--"

 

"No, no!" You almost shout. "No, it's not that. I'm just tired, I guess?" You reach out to hold her hand and squeezed. Smile, Chloe. "I'm really happy for you, Becs."

 

She breaks eye contact and resumes her stoic glaring out the window, her expression unreadable. "Thanks." Her hand slips from yours and she starts the car again.

 

***

 

You don't speak again until the car is parked in front of the Bella house.

 

"I'm gonna go ahead Becs," you say with a smile. "I need to talk to Stacie about something."

 

You move to get your bag from the backseat when she speaks, her voice barely a whisper. "Why didn't you ask me out?"

 

You freeze. _"What?"_

 

She's still glaring out the window. "When Jesse and I broke up, why didn't you ask me out?"

 

"I-- what? I'm--" you stare at her incredously.

 

She finally looks at you and the fire in her blue grey eyes startles you. The anger in her voice is braided with something you're not prepared to hear.

 

(Need? Wonder? Love, maybe?)

 

Whatever it is, it is a heady mix and you feel drunk.

 

"I like you, you nerd. Even though you don't understand the meaning of boundaries and personal spaces. Clearly, you don't like me as much as _she_ said. Telling me to wait and shit. I swear to God, Stacie--"

 

"She told you?" you all but shriek at her. She pulls back with her eyes wide, realizing that she closed the already small distance between your bodies

 

"Yeah, she overheard me talking to Amy about you," she says in a small voice, her cheeks burning.

 

"Oh," you say. You gulp nervously and you glance at her, she's wearing a small smile.

 

"Yeah, oh," she says, smile still in place. "So ... what now?"

 

She's laughing as she watches you struggling to unbuckle the seatbelt. You straddling her and kissing her passionately shuts her up.

 

***

 

You wake up the next morning with an arm on your waist. You smile as you take in her scent. She groans and buries herself deeper in your chest.

 

You decide to send Stacie a thank you gift basket.

 

***

 

You wake up groaning when the rays of the sun hits your face. Usually, you'll be up by now. Mostly likely eating breakfast with her.

 

(But you were up late last night)

 

You know it's futile but your hands reaches out to a warmth that you know isn't there.

 

(and she's not here.)

 

You sigh.

 

You try going back to sleep but as usual, thoughts of a certain blue eyed girl is keeping you awake. The dry, bitter taste of alcohol in your mouth makes you think that you should really stop going out with Stacie every other night.

 

You know you should. You just can't help it.

 

(Can't help that she's not here.)

 

So you sit up, scrambling around for something to wear. You settle for an oversized shirt and shorts because you can't find something else.

 

(Your dirty laundry is still sitting in the corner. She's not here to glare at you until you do it grudgingly so.)

 

You trudged to the kitchen to turn on the coffeemaker. Settling on the bar stool at the breakfast bar, you sit with your head cradled in your hands.

 

You don't notice at it first, like a song in the background when you're driving. You lift your head and look around, sure that you're hearing things because you're pretty sure you're alone.

 

But the humming continues. You vaguely recognize the tune and you feel your brain straining to remember the song from so long ago.

 

It was her first song. Granted, someone else wrote it and she just produced it but it was the song that gave her access to the music business.

 

You hear water running so you stand and walk slowly. There's been too many weirdly vivid dreams like this, that she's here. You don't want to get your hopes up again.

 

You stand outside the open door of the bathroom and you see her silhouette. Her tiny silhouette. You pinch your arm slightly and you wince. You're not dreaming.

 

She's really here.

 

Her scream when you launch yourself at her had you grinning from ear to ear.

 

"Dude!" she exclaims and and your arms envelope her small frame as laughter bubbles up from your throat. You feel her smiling on your shoulder.

 

You're still chuckling when you push her into the wall to claim her lips. Her blue grey eyes have darkened when you rest your forehead on hers, nudging her nose with yours.

 

"Hey."

 

"Hi," she all but sighs against your lips. Her eyes are closed and she's smirking but you think she looks content.

 

You pull back suddenly to swat her in the arm, your expression stern. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming back today?"

 

She yelps. "I have the weekend off. The tour is going great, thanks for asking," she says sarcastically.

 

"You could've called me, you know," you say. "I could have picked you up, maybe swing you around in the airport and all that cliche stuff."

 

She rolls her eyes. "I swear to god Beale, if this is what I get for trying to surprise you."

 

"Trying is the keyword." You scoff at her. "Excuse you, it's Beale-Mitchell now."

 

She's smiling. Not the stupid cocky twist of her lips but she's actually smiling sincerely. The adoration in her eyes leaves you breathless. "Right."

 

Her hands, which were previously clawing at your back, are now resting on your hips. She looks down and as though only noticing that you're fully clothed.

 

"What's with you always ambushing me in the shower?" she asks, smirk back in place. "Also for someone who is confident about all that, you're wearing too many layers."

 

You roll your eyes at her.

 

You don't come out of the bathroom until much, much later.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! :)
> 
> novocaine1698.tumblr.com


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